


Fearless

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Fear, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-20 15:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hercules Hansen is not the sort of man who is easily frightened. And now there is nothing to be afraid of.</p><p>[Major spoilers ahead]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something more of the side characters. I was so sad there wasn't more development of Striker Eureka, Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon's pilots.
> 
> Nearly all the information about the Hansen's pasts has come from the film and this one really great livejournal or dreamwidth post that had various characters' official bios. Which I lost the link for. Because I'm clever. If you happen to know the post I'm talking about, please drop me a link! I'll remember to save it this time, I promise. The rest is just headcanons to fill in the blanks.
> 
> Also, the first chapter takes place before the film/during the Battle of Hong Kong. Subsequent chapters will take place both before and after the film.

 Hercules Hansen is not the sort of man who is easily frightened.

 He's Australian, for God's sake, born and bred in Sydney. He grew up killing deadly pests that'd make a hard-assed American shit himself on more or less a daily basis. He's been trained in the art of warfare, both against humans and Kaiju. He knows what it's like to think the world is coming to an end, because it is.  He knows the fear of seeing his neighbourhood destroyed, and the weight of the terrible understanding that he will never see his wife again, because the military he works so hard for is going to arrive just a little too late, because Herc is too slow, too human, too fragile to save both his beloved wife and son. 

 Since The Day She Died, Herc has been completely fearless. The worst has already happened, his wife is dead and his son has not forgiven him the transgression of saving him over the angel that had been the centre of their universe, so what is there left to be afraid of?

Just the one thing, it turns out. The unthinkable. Nobody predicted it could happen, but the end result was that Gipsy Danger was torn to shreds and decommissioned and the lone remaining pilot's name was etched into Herc's mind forever. (And into the minds of every other pilot, as was the new fear that they would have to helplessly feel their co-pilot's death.)

 But it's all right. He's quashed _that_ fear. Crushed it 'til it barely exists, cannot rightly be called a fear at all. A mild anxiety. That's all it is.

He's piloting with Chuck nowadays. His son is capable, even if the hatred that blazes in his-- no, _their_ \-- brain when they drift makes Herc's head and heart hurt when he's just one person again. It's not exactly fine, but Chuck understands on some level, why Herc made the choice he did when Scissure attacked Sydney. Why he threw himself into work, why they moved into Ranger barracks and then the Sydney Shatterdome instead of renting an apartment.

 There's nothing to talk about when it comes to The Day She Died, and it's an uneasy sort of angry understanding they have, but it _is_ understanding, as warped as it might be. Chuck has felt the love, the deep fatherly affection that made Herc free him from the rubble instead of the woman neither of them can speak about (or even think the name of, for that matter), and the guilt and sorrow that follows it closely. Herc knows the mixed frustration and thankfulness and fondness and envy and contempt Chuck can't vocalise.

 The memories are still vivid in their minds as though The Day She Died was yesterday and not over ten years ago. It's bad enough that the memories almost overwhelmed their first drift and brought their superficially functioning relationship to a halt for a good few weeks, until their first Kaiju battle.

 Despite the silences and the division between them, they are Striker Eureka's pilots, and they have never lost a single battle. They have a high synch rate, the highest success rate, they are the best of the best. Herc hopes fervently that they will never lose, but with only four Jaegers left and the Kaiju getting stronger… well, hope's never saved anybody, has it?

 It's all right, though. They'll go down fighting, hopefully in the very last battle against the Kaiju and Herc's never going to have to see, hear or feel his son die. There's nothing to fear. He is not frightened.

 Of course, fearlessness in the face of nearly certain death is a lot easier when you're inside a cockpit, punching a monster to within an inch of its life with an arm the size of a small skyscraper. When the lights go out and they are two people instead of one again and Striker Eureka stops responding, the unfamiliar feeling of fear is almost overwhelming, and it's obvious with a single glance that Chuck is afraid as well. 

 But therein lies the difference. Fear drives Chuck forward, along with his fury and need for control over the thing that took his mother (and his father, but Herc tries to block that thought out when they connect) away from him. Fear has only ever held Herc back, and it's the pain in his broken arm that overrides his terror and takes him to the shoulder of the Jaeger, armed with naught but a teeny tiny flare gun against a monster with eyes as big as Herc's head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp i forgot how slow i am at writing
> 
> there will eventually be something nice and fluffy in this fic, i swear

Even after Raleigh and Mako are safely brought back to base, the first thing Herc does after stopping the war clock is go right back to the control room and vainly search the screens for some indication that Chuck is alive. 

It's a possibility, isn't it? Stacker could've easily detonated Striker's payload alone, he knew how important Chuck was to his father.

(Herc ignores the voice that points out that firstly, the escape pods have too little protection against nuclear radiation for Chuck to be anything more than a cancer-riddled wreck dying of radiation poisoning; and secondly, that there hadn't been enough time to initiate the procedure during the battle.)

It takes a couple of hours for anybody to realise what he's doing. There's world leaders to contact, belongings to pack, bits of Kaiju to sell to Chau, a hundred other tiny tasks, too much to do for a base with half the staff it's supposed to run on.

Tendo sets a strong cup of coffee by Herc's elbow, and a couple of pills. 

"He'd've been spotted by now if he were alive," Tendo says quietly. 

Yes, Herc knows. He knows, god damn it. He just doesn't want to say it, have to admit it.

 He yawns instead, stretching out his limbs and cracking his back. He starts sipping at the coffee, the bitter acrid shit they serve in the Shatterdome mess hall instead of real caffeine.

"You seriously came here to tell me what I already know?" he asks, more cruelly than he means to. When was the last time he slept? Night before the battle of Hong Kong. He'd survived on less, but he's getting older, much as he loathes to recognise that fact. Tendo looks wounded, but he has the grace to ignore the acidity of Herc's words. It's been a trying time for everybody. Even Mako and Raleigh are probably on edge by now, the adrenaline rush from saving the world having faded away.

"I have a speech for you to read in the press conference in an hour. Stacker would do it, but…" Tendo trails off, biting his lip, unsure how to talk to a man who just lost his son and best friend. "There's a clean dress uniform outside your quarters." There's a pause, and Tendo adds a 'sir' almost as an afterthought. It's an unwelcome reminder. Herc has never been the kind of guy to delagate and give orders, and he doesn't really know where to start.

"Don't call me that," Herc mutters, taking longer gulps of coffee. He swallows the pills- something to calm him, a painkiller, and something to keep him awake another couple hours, he'd guess- and hands the empty mug to Tendo. He picks up the sheaf of papers that make up the speech, and stands. All the awesome tech in this place, and they don't have an autocue lying around somewhere?

The walk to his room feels too quiet, despite the celebrating in the halls and Max trotting along beside him. Chuck should be here, being cocky and goading Herc into giving himself the hangover from hell. He isn't.

After showering, putting on the damned uncomfortable uniform that probably actually belongs-- _used_ to belong-- to Stacker, and combing his hair so it looks nearly neat, Herc glances at the papers Tendo gave him. It's all fancy bullshit, designed to make the politicians of the world happy and bring some kind of closure to civilians.

Blah, blah… Kaiju war over, War Clock finally stopped for good… some crap about a bright future… exact details of the Battle of Hong Kong… Blah…  final push… those science dude's discoveries… honourable sacrifices… will go down as heroes in history… a long, long list of names, all of which Herc at least recognises if not actually remembers meeting their owners face-to-face. Pilots and their Jaegers, date and place of death. Finished with three names he'd never expected he'd ever have to read.

Damn it.

Herc hates giving speeches. Stacker should be doing this, not him.


End file.
